He Rips Wings Off Butterflies
by truglasgowgal
Summary: Because for a self-professed pacifist, Chuck Bass hits people a lot; and by people, I mean, Nate. Because fights between best friends are the most bloody and basic of things.


Hope you like it – just a random something-something I cooked up ;)

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**Title:** He Rips Wings Off Butterflies  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own anything :'(  
**Summary:** Because for a self-professed pacifist, Chuck Bass hits people _a lot_; and by people, I mean, Nate. Because fights between best friends are the most bloody and basic of things.

"_There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love."  
__**Susie Switzer**_

.

The first time Chuck Bass hits anyone, he hits Nathaniel Archibald and he is five.

"You can't have everything, Nate!" he tells the boy, before his little fist connects with the other boy's face.

It's true, because he can't. Chuck wants it all, wants it all or nothing; and he simply _won't_ settle for nothing. He's a _Bass._

Besides, Nate gets Serena's attention _and_ Blair's; it's not fair. He has to choose. He can't have both; it's too messy that way. And there's four of them, he shouldn't have to share; they should split evenly.

Two and two.

Chuck and Nate: Blair and Serena.

Chuck and Blair: Nate and Serena.

Chuck and Serena: Nate and Blair.

It works out perfectly in his mind, so he can't see why his _best friend_ has to go and make everything so complicated.

He kicks the edge of the sandbox that he didn't want to play in anyway and stomps away when both the girls run to Nate's side first, muttering another word under his breath that he heard his father shout into his phone the week before. It makes him smirk like the devil when he hears the consolidated gasp that resonates from the mouths of those around him when he utters it.

When he gets home that night, he has his nanny and the maid and even his father's secretary fawning over him, and it makes him smile.

If Nate doesn't have to choose, then why should he?

He pouts up at them all, and tells them about the fight he got in and how his _best friend_ – of all people – started it, and how it really_ really_ hurt when Nate pushed him over in the sand and he hit his head on the side.

He gets ice cream and a new bowtie and he doesn't have to look at that stupid sandbox for the rest of his Kindergarten life; and he thinks that maybe Nate has the right idea.

Why settle when you can just have it all?

Spoken like a true Bass.

.

"Dude, he's so gay!"

"Shut up, Nathaniel," is all Chuck says to that, shooting his best friend a sideways glance that he hopes will make him do just that.

It doesn't.

"But, I mean, just look at him – look at how he's hitting on that other guy – it's so obvious, he's gay," Nate continues, eyes moving from the screen before them to the two boys next to him; oblivious to how the youngest among them has stiffened and become significantly less vocal.

"And so what if he is?" he demands, and his best friend turns to look at him then; seems to catch onto something happening that's just beyond him.

"Eric's gay, you fuckwit," Chuck growls out next, and then launches himself across the space and slugs Nate for good measure.

"You are?" Nate's brow furrows as he tries to process the words, before Chuck's fist swipes right into him.

"You know?" Eric's voice comes out entirely too like a squeal for his liking, but he can chalk that down to his surprise at seeing his brother hit his best friend.

After all, it's not every day you see Chuck Bass hit someone, right?

"Gonna shut-up now?" Chuck asks, as he towers over his best friend.

Nate nods dumbly and the brown-haired boy releases a breath, runs a hand through his hair and falls back into the spot he was previously sitting in, breathing out a, "Good."

"You know?" Eric asks again, this time in a much more controlled tone, which he directs specifically towards his brother.

"Of course I know," he replies easily; because why wouldn't he? Eric is his _brother_.

"Oh, right," the younger comments and looks away. "You have a PI."

"No, not the PI," Chuck replies with irritation.

"Though he did show me some interesting pictures after the fact," he adds after a moment.

He sighs, looks exasperated, and turns his rolling of the eyes over to fit his younger brother with a single look. "After that pool party fiasco? Everyone was here?" he prompts, trying to instil some recollection in _someone_ within his immediate vicinity. "We played truth or dare, spin the bottle, whatever."

"Oh, yeah!" a voice cries out; well Nate remembers, even if his little brother doesn't. "And you were dared to kiss, Eric!"

"Wait! _That_ was when you knew?" Eric asks, raising an eyebrow. "You've known all this time."

"Longer actually," Chuck tells him with a shrug. "The dare just confirmed it."

"You were a little _too_ into the kiss," he tells his little brother with a soft smirk curving his lips. "Even for an underage virgin teetering that ever-so-fine line between tipsy and hammered."

"Oh," Eric's voice is so impossibly small, Chuck can't help but swing an arm around his shoulders an pull him into him in a display of brotherly affection he never thought he'd readily embrace; but this is _Eric_, and he has a certain way about him.

"You were better than Jenny, if that's any consolation," he remarks; eyes staring intently out the window at the dull grey sky that stretches endlessly across the whole distance of his vision and he lifts his Scotch to his lips, downs it in one, the melted ice clinking off the insides of the glass sounding like the loudest thing he's ever heard.

"Man, don't," Nate warns him at that.

"What?" Chuck asks, and Eric spies the smirk tweaking his lips instantly; it's harder at the edges than it is when he's teasing Eric, and it's accompanied by those devilishly twinkling eyes. "She was willing enough when we started."

At that Nate lets out a low growl and punches Chuck across the jaw.

"You did that on purpose," Eric remarks when his brother lifts his head and touches his lip with the pads of his fingers, only to pull them away bloody.

"What?" Nate's brow is furrowed once again as he looks between the two; is it possible to have déjà vu so close together?

"He made the comment about Jenny because he knew you'd hit him," the younger informs him, and then shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He wanted to give you a chance to level the playing field."

"He insulted you," Chuck speaks up then, and flicks a glare Nate's way. "You can hardly level _that_ playing field."

"Alright," the younger concedes, and then smirks at his brother's best friend. "Think of it as a warning then, Nate."

And there's that familiar tweak of the lips, that recognizable glint in his eyes as Eric counsels him, "Don't fuck with Chuck Bass's family."

.

*Smack*

"Fuck, man!" Nate cries, lifting his head to look up at his best friend.

"What was that for?" he demands, hand to his jaw as he rubs it before wincing at the pain.

"For making my sister cry," Chuck tells him simply in return.

"She was in labor, Chuck!" his best friend replies in slight disbelief. "She's just had a baby – of _course_ she's going to cry."

"All I know is that Blair's had two of my children, and she didn't cry once," is what he says to that and watches his best friend try to crack out his jaw.

"That's because Blair's a – "

*Smack*

"Less of the lip, Nathaniel," Chuck advises him at that, amusement lilting his words. "It'll get you in trouble one day."

And he walks back into his sister's delivery room with a wide smirk as he touches the white of his handkerchief to the red that stains his knuckles. He shares a look with his wife before he goes over to join her as she holds the newest addition to their extended family in her arms, their own children flanking her on either side and his sister beaming up at him her hospital bed, their brother standing guard next to her.

He doesn't stop the chuckle that escapes his lips when his brother (in-law) staggers into the room and his sister lets out a gasp and a _What happened to you, Natie? _in the same breath.

Blair sends him a knowing look and his sister glares at him, while his brother shares in the laughter and his best friend grumbles about loyalty and _effing _Basses and everything in between. Serena nudges her husband in the ribs and tells him to watch his mouth around their newborn and he sends a smirk at his best friend, his eyes gleaming in that delicious fashion.

_I told you; never bet against a Bass. We're all winners in the end._

.

It's like history repeating itself when he and his wife are called to their son's school and told he was caught fighting with another child by the sandbox.

"They still have those?" he asks his wife incredulously as they sit and wait for the parents of the other little boy involved to arrive.

She elbows him in the ribs and uses her society smile on the headmistress and then the door opens and who should be escorted in but his dear sister and her husband.

He releases a laugh then, ignores his wife's sigh and roll of the eyes at his behavior, and says, "Oh, this is just _priceless_."

"This is my husband's sister," Blair tells the woman on the other side of the desk; gesturing to the blonde she has just stood to greet. "And since this is to do with our son using his fists instead of eloquently putting his feelings into words like I'm well aware he is more than capable of doing; I'm going to leave my husband to deal with it."

"Serena?" she prompts as she moves towards the door, and the blonde steps into stride alongside her best friend mere moments later; and the pair bid their husband's and the headmistress good day on their way out.

The meeting is the most pointless thing he's ever encountered and when he's standing outside by the limo, his son and his best friend's son having just jumped inside ahead of him, he turns to his brother (in-law) and punches him across the face.

"Chuck!" Nate cries, and looks up at him with an angry glare. "What the _Hell_ was that for?"

"That was for not educating your son better, Nathaniel," he tells him matter-of-factly. "For allowing him to think that it was acceptable for him to assault his younger cousin – who is also considerably smaller than him, I might add – in full view of the public domain."

"Well, in that case," Nate smirks at him and makes a moves towards him, but Chuck just holds up his hand to halt him in his step

"Now, now, Nathaniel, have these years of friendship taught you nothing?" he chastises him playfully, "You're supposed to fight _with_ a Bass, not against him."

"I want a decree passed that ensures that Kindergarten never has a sandbox on its land again, so I'll be needing someone like _you_, brother, to get it done," Chuck tells his best friend, and his smirk spread across his lips; eyes lighting up with mischief. "I presume you'll be on board – from what I understand, none of the boy's in your family seem to have the best track record with sandboxes."

His laughter fills the back of the limo and soon both men are pulling their sons in close and inspecting the damage they've inflicted upon one another.

His nephew groans when he catches his reflection in the mirror, and his son laughs before telling him quite categorically; "I wouldn't worry about it – by the time you step through the door, Aunt Serena'll be so concerned with throttling Dad for ruining Uncle Nate's pretty boy features that you won't get into trouble for trying to make a dent in my ruggedly handsome cheekbones."

When his best friend rolls his eyes at him over their sons' heads, he simply shrugs and takes a swig of his drink, as he sees Nate shake his head at him.

"I told you not to question me," Chuck tells Nate amusedly. "I always know what I'm doing."

"Of course he does," his nephew agrees, looking up at his own father; because _he_ knows it, even if the man's own best friend doesn't. "He's Chuck Bass."

"No, he's my Dad," his son corrects haughtily, and he laughs, because it's true.

He raises his eyebrows at Nate and grins around the rim of the glass, his eyes dancing as the memory of his own Kindergarten tussle with his best friend returns to his mind.

.

_Never mess with a Bass, Archibald; we never lose and we're never wrong and we have eyes everywhere._

He'd heard his father say this into his mouthpiece when he slid into his office that night last week; he wasn't supposed to be there, but he picked up _so_ much ammo from his little visit, it didn't matter that he'd gotten into _so_ much trouble for it.

_So what, you're like a King or the President or something?_

His best friend doesn't look so big, or threatening, or like he has it all when he's lying on the ground at Chuck's feet; confusion knitting his brow and dirt marring his perfect features.

_Oh no, we're much more than that, Nathaniel._

He grins down at the other boy like the maniac they've already predicted he'll become; his eyes catch the light and a smirk twists his lips.

_We Basses; we own the whole fucking world._

_._

**_The End._**

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Hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought of it – it means a lot!  
Steph  
xxx


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